‘Oh!’ cried Violet, ‘he gives up for this poor man’s sake.’
‘I thought all peace was over if I was to see poor Evans enacting the enamoured swain every day of my life, for the fellow had not the grace to carry it off like a man—besides having his business to do; or, if he should succeed in dying, I should not only be haunted by his ghost, but have to convey his last words to the disconsolate governess. So, on calculation, I thought trouble would be saved by giving notice that I was going home to publish the Crusaders, and sending him to fetch his bride, on whose arrival I shall bid a long farewell to the Grand Turk. I fancy I shall take an erratic course through Moldavia and some of those out-of-the-way locations, so you need not write to me again here, nor think of me till you see me about the end of August. I suppose about that time Theodora will have finished the course of severe toil reserved for young ladies every spring, so I shall come straight home expecting to see you all.’
‘Home; does that mean Martindale?’ said Violet.
‘Yes. He has never looked on any place but Brogden as his home.’
‘You don’t think he repents of what he has done?’
‘No, certainly not. He has seen what a long engagement is.’
‘Yes; I almost wonder at his writing to you in that tone.’
‘He banters because he cannot bear to show his real feeling. I am not anxious about him. He has £300 a year of his own, and plenty of resources,—besides, the baronetcy must come to him. He can afford to do as he pleases.’
‘What a noble character he must be!’ said Violet; ‘it is like a story. How old is he?’
‘About nine-and-twenty. I am glad you should see him. He is a very amusing fellow.’